His Revolution
by ElevensSweetie16
Summary: The night before Governor Lamarque's funeral and the building of the barricades, Enjolras and Eponine get to know each other a little bit better. Author's note: This is a one-shot. I also have an Enjolras fic called "Veronique" that I've been updating like crazy, if you are interested.


Disclaimer: I do not own "Les Miserables" or any of the characters.

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Enjolras was working late again at the café, and he thought he might begin to lose his mind. The next day _Les Amis de l'ABC_ would be causing a disruption during the funeral parade for General Lamarque, and it was Enjolras's job to ensure that everything went smoothly for the transition to the barricades. His golden curls were messy from the multiple times he had run his hands through his hair in frustration. Finally, unable to stay still anymore, Enjolras began pacing around the room.

He jumped when a small figure appeared at the top of the stairs to the attic meeting room. His thoughts had masked the sound of her light footsteps. Glancing at her, he recognized her long, dark brown hair and slim figure covered in a faded brown dress. Her feet were bare on the well-worn wooden floor, and her arms were covered by an ancient woolen coat.

"I didn't realize anyone was still here," Éponine said. "I'm sorry to interrupt."

Enjolras shrugged. "I wasn't really getting anywhere with my plans. Please, come in."

Éponine stepped further into the room, taking a seat on one of the wooden chairs. She watched as Enjolras continued to pace, his boots clicking against the floor.

"What's on your mind, monsieur?" Éponine asked, her voice loud in the silent room.

He stopped pacing, turning to look at the girl from the street. Enjolras barely knew her, but somehow that made it easier to talk with her. "Everything hangs on tomorrow," he answered. "The revolution, the barricades, and a new world: it all starts tomorrow. What if I miscalculated? What if I planned incorrectly? Everything could turn against us."

Éponine stood and approached him slowly. "Monsieur, you shouldn't worry so much. You'll put lines on that lovely face."

Enjolras watched her get closer to him. "Lines on my face are the last of my concerns."

"Monsieur," Éponine said, shaking her head. "Worry doesn't change a single thing. Sometimes all you can do is take one moment and live in it. That is the only way to go on."

"Is that how you live?" Enjolras replied. "Living moment to moment?"

Her dark brown eyes looked away from his. "I live in dreams," she admitted. "I get by through dreaming of a moment worth living in forever. I dream of a better tomorrow."

"That's my dream," Enjolras said excitedly. "A better tomorrow, one where everyone is happy and safe and warm and has enough to live."

Éponine met his eyes once more. "I see why so many men want to follow you," she murmured. "You honestly believe in those dreams."

"Don't you?" Enjolras asked.

She shrugged with one shoulder. "When you've spent half of your life in the gutter, it's hard to remember what it feels like to believe in dreams coming true."

"That is a true shame," he replied. "I wish I could make you believe in dreams again."

Éponine looked at him, an odd light in her eyes. "What exactly are you offering, monsieur?"

He swallowed, oddly nervous. "I'm not sure," Enjolras admitted. "What would you like me to say?"

She took a step closer to him again. "Actually, I'd rather you didn't say anything more."

Enjolras tilted his head, confused for a moment before her request sunk in. Once he realized what she was asking, he had to keep himself from shifting uncomfortably from foot-to-foot.

"Éponine," he said. "We don't know each other very well, and I am flattered by your interest-"

She cut him off. "Monsieur, the revolution begins tomorrow. You will be at the front of the ranks, and I know that I will not be standing idle on the sidelines. This may very well be the last chance either of us gets to be close to someone. Do you really want to spend your last night of peace alone?" Éponine paused. "I know I don't."

Enjolras thought, _really_ thought, about her offer. He realized she was right. For once, he didn't want to spend a night alone and surrounded by his books.

"Say I was interested," Enjolras said. "What would this entail?"

Éponine closed the remaining space between them. "This," she murmured. "This is what it means." Gently, softly, she pressed her lips to his.

Enjolras had kissed a few girls, but it had been before he had gotten consumed by the revolution and the plans for the barricades. Back then it had been about experimentation. Now it was about feeling something other than alone.

They broke apart, Éponine looking up at Enjolras with a question in her eyes. Rather than saying anything, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her again.

One arm around her infinitely small waist, the other hand tangled in her hair, he kissed her like he was a drowning man and she was air. One of her little hands rested on his heart and the other lay on the curve of his neck. She responded to his pressure by opening her mouth, granting his tongue access to hers.

Enjolras backed Éponine up to the table where he had spread out his notes and lifted her to sit on it. She wrapped her legs around him and pulled him closer, running her fingers though his curls as she kissed him again and again. He let his hands wander up and down her body, feeling her curves under her thin dress. Éponine released his head and began to fumble with the buttons on his scarlet jacket.

He tore off the jacket and his white shirt, immediately returning to her and kissing her soft mouth as she ran her nails up and down his arms, back and chest. Enjolras lifted the hem of her dress, pushing it up to her knees so he could feel the soft skin of her legs. She let go of him again, this time to shimmy her dress over her head and let it fall to the floor.

Enjolras stepped back, admiring the smoothness of her skin, only slightly marred by a few scars. Éponine pulled him back to her by his belt as she loosened the buckle and let his trousers fall to the floor alongside her discarded dress. He kicked the clothes away from his feet and returned to her arms. Running his fingertips up and down her spine, he felt her shiver.

She kissed her way along his jaw to his ear, where she paused. "Don't stop now, monsieur," she whispered. "You have me. Now take me."

He didn't need to be told twice. Her skin had been cold under his large hands, but she was warming up quickly from the heat they were generating. Enjolras entered into her slowly, giving her time to adjust. She moaned quietly, her spine straightening as he pushed. Once he was fully sheathed in Éponine, Enjolras began to set a rhythm.

They were joined together, closer than he had ever been to anyone. Her arms held onto him as he plunged in and out of her, and beads of sweat began to appear on both their bodies. He lay her down on the table, regardless of his notes, and leaned over her, continuing to follow his rhythm. After the change of position, her hips began to buck against his.

"Monsieur," she moaned. "Oh, Enjolras, oh!"

He felt her tighten around him, sending him over the edge after her. They returned to Earth together, still wrapped around each other. Enjolras tried to move, but Éponine refused to let him go.

"We still have hours before dawn," she told him quietly. "Stay with me."

He couldn't refuse her. Enjolras lay down on the table beside her, his arm wrapped around her waist and her head resting on his chest. Her eyelashes fluttered against his skin as she closed her eyes.

Enjolras lay awake for hours, thinking about the beautiful woman in his arms. He'd never imagined that anyone would ever understand the dreams he had for the country, and yet this street urchin had understood. She had understood his dreams and that more than anything, he needed company on the night before the beginning.

She was his revolution, he realized. This girl had shown him freedom in her arms, and he would do his best to give that freedom to the rest of France the next day.

Éponine moved in her sleep, her hand holding onto Enjolras's. He looked and their intertwined hands, smiled, and closed his eyes to try to get some sleep.


End file.
